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Bone was there at eight A.M., prompt as always on sail days. I was in the cockpit, going over charts and slugging coffee. In the mirror in the head earlier, my face had looked puffy, the eyes red-veined and heavily bagged. He noticed the haggard appearance right away.

"You look beat up, Cap'n," he said.

"Didn't sleep much," I said. "Annalise packed up and left yesterday. Sooner than I expected."

He nodded. "Better it happen quick."

"Yeah. I'm relieved she's gone. Reason I didn't sleep much is that I'm still kicking myself for letting her come back in the first place."

We headed out north-by-northwest, on a starboard tack through the Windward Passage. Brisk trades at about twelve knots, light cloud cover—another fine day for sailing. It was cool out there with the trades blowing strong; the Freon packs probably hadn't been necessary. Bone had little to say once we were under way. He was like that sometimes, taciturn, self-contained. His silence was all right with me. I didn't feel much like talking, either.

The course I'd set took us up past Sandy Cay, off Jost Van Dyke Island, then along the Tortola coast on a broad reach past Guana Island. Familiar territory. And tonight we'd be well away from land, in waters where we weren't likely to encounter many other vessels.

Bone went below to fix the noon meal, came back up again a couple of minutes later. "No beer, Cap'n," he said. "Ice chest's empty."

"Damn, I thought we had some. I guess I forgot to check. We can put in somewhere and load up—"

"No need. Plenty of rum, enough ice in the fridge."

The wind died in the late afternoon and we were down to about two knots, riding close-hauled, as the sun began to sink. I lashed the wheel and went below to pour us a couple of Arundels in preparation for the sunset. It was spectacular that night, the clouds a puffy mix of cirrocumulus and altocumulus, the colors vivid bronze and burnt orange, smoky grays and deep purples. The long day's sail and the sunset had leached the tiredness and most of the tension out of me. Once I was finished with the night's chore, I felt sure the emptiness would be gone—that I'd feel a measure of peace again.

My turn in the galley, and I dawdled over the meal so it would be close to eight o'clock before it was ready. We ate on deck, still without exchanging more than a few words. When we were done, I took the plates and empty glasses down to the galley. The coffee pot was on; Bone liked a mug of sugared coffee laced with rum after his evening meal. I poured another Arundel on ice for myself, fixed his coffee—a generous dollop of rum, plenty of sugar, and two of the remaining Valium tablets. I debated making it three, because Bone was a light sleeper, but I was afraid of doing him some harm. Two ought to be enough.

Six-hour watches in clear weather like this. It was my boat, so I had first option; I told him I'd take the nine-to-three watch. He was still quiet, but he hadn't tasted anything wrong with his drink: he'd drained the mug. He was yawning and rubbing his eyes by nine o'clock. I pointed out the time, said he'd better get himself some sleep. He nodded and took himself below.

I waited two hours before I lashed the wheel and tiptoed below to check on him. He was sprawled face down on the vee bunk in the fore cabin, snoring loudly. I opened the forward sail locker and got the suitcase and cosmetic case and carried them topside. Before I dumped them over the side I made another scan for running lights in the vicinity. Nothing but black, starlit sea.

Belowdecks again I opened the aft locker and dragged the bundle out and propped it against the bulkhead. I put the extra padlocks in my pocket, looped the lengths of anchor chain around my wrists and arms. It was awkward getting the bundle over my shoulder, a strain on my back and legs carrying it up the companionway. Topside, sweating in the cool night air, I lowered the bundle against the starboard rail and held it there while I wrapped the lengths of anchor chain around it, top and bottom, and snugged them tightly in place with the extra padlocks. My grasp slipped a little as I lifted the bundle up onto the rail; before I could set myself, one of the damn chain links scraped a furrow into the smooth mahogany. The bundle made a splash that seemed very loud in the night's stillness. The weight of the chains took it into the depths almost immediately.

I went below again. Bone was still out, still snoring; he hadn't moved.

Now the wall was complete.

I got the flashlight from the cockpit and checked the mark in the starboard rail. It wasn't deep, noticeable only when you were up close and looking. If Bone spotted it, he'd know it hadn't been there when he turned in. I'd think up a story to explain it if he questioned me.

I put the flash away and sat against the deckhouse wall to rest and and watch the night. I couldn't seem to enjoy the starstruck vastness, couldn't find any of the peace I'd hoped for. The burned-out emptiness remained. I shouldn't have expected it to fill up again so soon. After all that I'd been through, the healing was bound to take a little time.

Bone didn't come up at three to take his watch, so I went down to call him. He was still asleep, but thrashing restlessly now. I shook him awake, told him the time. It took him a few seconds to shake off the grogginess. His mouth worked as if it were dry and foul-tasting; the way he heeled his temples told me he had a headache.

I said lightly, "Too much rum last night, Bone?"

He didn't answer. He stood, pulled a T-shirt over his head, and headed up the companionway.

I slept well enough, but only for about four hours. At seven I got up, turned the flame on under the coffee pot, sluiced off under a cool shower before I dressed. The coffee was ready by then. I poured two mugs full, added sugar to one, and carried them topside.

As soon as I saw the position of the sun, I knew that we were heading in the opposite direction from the course I'd set the day before. Bone was standing at the helm, stiff-backed, staring straight ahead. He didn't answer when I said good morning. I extended one of the mugs; he shook his head without looking at me, so I set it down on the chart table.

"You changed our course," I said. "How come?"

"Heading back, Cap'n."

"Back to St. Thomas? Why?"

"Heading back, Cap'n."

"What's the matter? Are you sick?"

"Yeah, mon. A little sick."

I laid a hand on his arm, the way you do. He shrugged it off as if it were an annoying blowfly.

"What the hell, Bone?"

His gaze rounded on me, and there was a look in his eyes I'd never seen before. As if something had cought fire in their depths. As if he were looking at somebody he'd never seen before. He said nothing, just stared at me.

He knows, I thought.

He knows!

Moment of panic. Involuntary reflex because of it. A sudden roll as we plowed through a wave trough. All three of those things caused the mug to slip out of my hand. It tilted in Bone's direction as it fell, splattering him with hot coffee on the way down. More coffee splashed his pantlegs when the mug shattered on the deck.

I don't know, maybe he thought I did it on purpose. Or maybe something just broke loose inside him. Whatever the reason, his reaction was snake-sudden.

He spun toward me and grabbed two handfuls of my shirt. I said something, I don't remember what, and clawed at his wrists. He had a grip like an iron fllike. He crowded in close and swung me around and slammed my back up hard against the mizzenmast. Pain tore a yell out of me; I folight him but I couldn't pull free. He had me pinned tight against the spar.

At some point in the brief struggle one of us must have kicked down on a leeward spoke, causing the wheel to spin counterclockwise. Windrunner's bow fell off to port. Wind hammered into the lee side of the mains'l with a crack like a big Umb breaking off a tree. The main boom swung inward as the yawl jibed. Bone and I both saw it an instant before it swept across the cockpit. He was the one in harm's way, his body shielding mine, and there wasn't enough time for him to twist aside. The boom smacked him on the shoulder with enough force to send him staggering into the starboard rail, and the rail catapulted him overboard.